


with our hearts alive

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Day At The Beach, Fluff, Lazy make outs, M/M, Necking like teenagers, Playing Hooky, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even superheroes need a day off now and then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with our hearts alive

**Author's Note:**

> The title and inspiration come from Avalanche City's "Drive On." I've been listening to the acoustic version of this song on repeat for like three days because it's SO GOOD.
> 
> GUYS there's a mix to go along with now, thanks to the awesome Samantha. [Listen here](http://8tracks.com/colorofasoul/drive-on)

Bucky hasn't agreed to fight with the Avengers (Tony keeps saying _yet_ and Steve keeps saying _if you push him I will actually kill you_ and Sam keeps telling Steve to threaten to use Tony's head as a basketball because it's funny and Steve's hands are probably big enough to really do it), but he does come to the Tower sometimes when Steve has to go in for meetings. It depends on the day; more accurately, it depends on how Bucky feels about the day, or sometimes how _Steve_ feels about the day, because even after a sleepless night of terrifying memories Steve won't skip a briefing so sometimes Bucky goes with him and sits in on the meetings and takes a nap against Steve's shoulder because Steve needs him there.

They'd both had a rough night, waking one another up with nightmares multiple times and every time arguing about _I'll go sleep on the couch_ and _do you really think I'll be able to sleep without you_ and _well we're not sleeping anyway so we might as well have sex_. (The last one wasn't actually an argument.) Bucky really only had a bad night because he hadn't gotten enough sleep the whole week, because for some reason Steve's been having a ton of nightmares this week and though his nightmares are quiet, Bucky always wakes up with him.

So Bucky is coming with Steve to the Tower. Bucky's driving because he'd put his foot down and insisted, and Steve's resting his forehead against the window, looking pale and weary. Bucky keeps glancing at him and his heart clenches every time because this isn't even an _important_ meeting; Tony asked them all to come in to discuss some PR meet-and-great that's not for another two months, but Steve won't refuse even though he's in no shape to bicker with Tony and be social. They've got some mellow indie music going on the radio—Bucky has literally no idea what it is, but it's almost lulling Steve to sleep so he doesn't care. Steve's frowning pretty hard over there, and if Bucky wasn't driving or had longer arms he'd reach over and smooth out that wrinkle in his forehead.

“I wish I didn't have to do anything,” Steve murmurs. Bucky almost doesn't catch it, but it's something Steve used to say all the time, when he was so tired from being sick or being in constant pain that even he, Steve Rogers with all his stubbornness and grit, just wanted a day off, so Bucky knows the shape of the words well enough to hear it. He glances over and can't resist the urge to grab Steve's hand; Steve looks so defeated, shoulders slumped, dark circles under his eyes, that Bucky can't _not_ touch him.

“We could just keep driving,” Bucky suggests. He's thought about it more than once. Steve smiles faintly.

“Just play hooky?” He asks, huffing out a tired laugh. Bucky smiles over at him.

“We used to. Remember?” It's kind of silly for Bucky to ask Steve if he remembers, because Steve's not the one with the addled memory, but it's a normal type of thing to say.

“I was so worried we were going to get caught,” Steve reminisces. “And we _did_ once. Remember when we skipped school and went to Coney Island?”

Bucky snorts. “Pretty dumb, huh? Of course everyone knew we were supposed to be at school.”

“I couldn't believe my ma didn't even care.”

“She knew you needed a day off,” Bucky says softly. It took him a second, but he remembers the context now—it had been a long, long winter of flu and fevers and Steve had only been back two days before the principal was suggesting, yet again, they send him away to a hospital for “other fragile people like him”, and Steve had felt so weary of it all he'd actually found a corner and slumped down and cried. Bucky had taken one look at him and snapped, tugging Steve by the hand all the way out of the schoolyard and down to the train station, firmly marching him down the boardwalk for a lemon ice even though it was barely April.

Steve's thumb is rubbing against Bucky's wrist and he's tired enough that he says, almost dopily, “My Buck, always looking out for me,” and Bucky would normally laugh at him but after three bad nights in a row and his head drooping like that Bucky's willing to let it slide. Just this once.

“Might have to steal you away again,” Bucky says.

Steve doesn't say anything.

“Steve?” Bucky prompts. “If you don't argue with me right now I'm just gonna keep on driving right past that damn Tower and we're going to the beach.”

Steve stays quiet.

“Last chance, pal,” Bucky warns, grinning now. Steve looks over at him with a small smile of his own.

“I'm real tired, Buck,” he says softly. “The world can stay safe on its own for one day, don't you think?”

“Hell yes,” Bucky agrees. “You do enough for this damn world.”

Steve only looks a little bit guilty, and that's how Bucky knows he _really_ needs this day off. “Gimme your phone,” Bucky orders.

“Why?”

“Steve! Gimme your phone. Phone, Stevie. Phone!” Bucky chants it until Steve relents, huffing at him. Bucky takes it and shuts it off, then pulls out his own and does the same and tosses them both in the back seat.

“No phones,” he says unnecessarily. They're coming up on the Tower and Bucky rolls down their windows. “Not today!” He yells as they pass the turn. Steve's laughing.

“I'm taking a day off!” He shouts out the window. Bucky rolls up the windows and they're both laughing and snorting like teenagers who haven't gone through hell a time or two apiece.

They drive on, singing along to the music and poking one another in the ribs, Steve perking up with the thrill of ditching out and Bucky's laugh. They stop at a little cafe and get sandwiches and head out to Fire Island. Since it's early May, it's not exactly a booming place; just what they want.

Steve drags a blanket out of the trunk along with the sandwiches and they burrow down in the sand with their jackets against the breeze.

“Nice not to have to worry about the sun burning you out,” Bucky mumbles, half-asleep on Steve's chest. He can hear the rumble of Steve's assent under his cheek and it makes him smile.

“I'd be fried by now,” Steve agrees. They've been in the sand for almost two hours, just sitting and talking and burying each other's feet. Steve, of course, had been sketching until Bucky claimed him as a pillow. Bucky doesn't feel the least bit apologetic.

“Mm.” The half part of half-asleep is quickly disappearing.

“Falling asleep on me, Buck?” Steve teases.

“Literally,” Bucky somehow finds the energy to say. Steve laughs a little, chest rising and taking Bucky with it, but he's dropping off, too. Bucky thinks, absently, that Steve _better_ take a nap because he needs it, after the week he's had.

Bucky wakes up before Steve does and rises up on his elbows to look down at Steve. He quietly mourns the no-phone rule only because he doesn't have a camera, but then realizes Steve's fancy iPod has a camera and it's in Bucky's pocket. He snaps a picture of Steve and tosses it back down into the sand, snuggling up close again and enjoying the steady rise and fall of Steve's breath. He used to listen to Steve's breathing all the time for reassurance, but it was never all that comforting—it'd wheeze out of him, it'd stutter and sound painful, but at least it meant he was still kicking.

Steve wakes up after a few minutes and they lie there cuddled up like puppies, fingers laced together like absolute saps. Steve hops on Bucky's train of thought and takes a picture of them, and then the ocean, and then finds the one of him sleeping and gives Bucky a mock-stern look, muttering about _invasion of privacy_ and _never can leave the damn paparazzi behind_. Bucky pushes him into the sand and kisses him senseless until they're both laughing breathlessly.

“Well.” Steve's hand is sliding up and down Bucky's back. “Should we go?”

Bucky would say no, except he knows Steve must be starving. A sandwich doesn't hold him over for long. He burrows his face in the crook of Steve's neck. “Five more minutes,” he mouths against Steve's skin, making Steve shiver. “Let's just neck a little more.” Steve laughs, and he's back to his big, booming laugh that makes Bucky smile automatically.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve does a fearsome impression of their fourth-grade teacher. “You are a _bad influence_.”

“And damn proud of it,” Bucky adds, though he'd never dared sass Ms. Levinson because she certainly didn't shy away from the paddle and Bucky liked his behind in one piece, thank you very much.

They eventually rouse themselves and get back to the car, where Steve guiltily eyes his phone in the backseat. Bucky rolls his eyes heavenward. “Go ahead,” he says, sighing like he's so put-upon. He's reaching for the door handle when Steve nudges him up against the door, holding onto his hips.

“Oh, _I'm_ the bad influence, huh?” Bucky murmurs into the half-centimeter between their lips. Steve shuts him up for a minute or two.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve's smiling at him like he's special and Bucky wants to frame the image for his dark days. “I don't know how I ever got through two years without you.” Bucky kisses him again because thinking of those two years makes little clouds come into Steve's eyes and that's not allowed, not today. “You're my best guy,” Steve says when he pulls away and heads over to the passenger side.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky swats at Steve's ass. “You keep up the view and we won't have any problems.”

They both have about a million missed calls and texts, and Steve's last voicemail from Tony says, “Your car has a GPS in it, you know, so I checked and to our delight it seems you are _not_ dead, something you might have thought to reassure us about. You're at the beach? I guess you're ignoring us and playing hooky? I admit I did not think you had it in you, Cap. I'm so proud.” Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling again and it stays all the way home until they realize they've tracked sand all across the living room.

They have to join the world again, and get back to regular things like therapy and crime-fighting and catching up on confusing TV shows, but Steve gets the photo of the two of them printed and framed, so when one or both of them have a bad day, they have a good memory to look at.

Bucky doesn't tell Steve this, but he plans to make it a habit—spontaneous trips to steal Steve away from his responsibilities. If there's one thing Bucky Barnes knows, it's how to keep Steve Rogers happy, and it's the one job that will never get tiresome.


End file.
